


The Proposal

by Ms_Julius



Series: SINF-week 2 [8]
Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: M/M, SINF Week, SINF Week 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: Machivelli takes Billy to the trip to Italy.There is something he needs to ask from the cowboy.





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Part 8 of the SINF-week 2, it was a free day prompt, so I got a request from @sinfweek to write Machiabilly's weddings.  
> Well, we didn't quite get there yet, but I hope this suffices.

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” Billy let his gaze wander upwards, staring with wide eyes at the pictures painted into the high ceilings and the huge windows planted all over the massive building.

Beside him, Machiavelli smiled warmly at his admiration and gestured towards the spectacularly carved pillars lining up alongside of the long aisle. “Well, it was build to cast a shadow over all the other churches in Italy. It’s supposed to be grand and a bit pompous.”

They were standing side by side, hands intertwined under the arch of Santa Croce, an ancient church located in Florence, Machiavelli’s home town. It had taken them few months to arrange the trip to Italy, but once they had landed, after the hotel this was the place Machiavelli had insisted they should visit first.

The decision had not been difficult, given that Billy knew literally nothing about Italy or its typical sightseeing spots, and Machialli had spent a good part of his long life in this city, learning every corner and street by heart. When the younger man glanced up at his lover, it came clear to him that this particular place held a significance far deeper than mere turist attraction to Niccolò.

“Well, they sure made a great job at it. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a church more beautiful than this one.” 

The smile on Machiavelli’s face grew wider despite of the gush of feelings settling inside his heaving chest. It was the sudden understanding of revealing something genuinely personal to his partner. Something he had not shown to any other person during his long stay on this planet.

“I am glad you find it so.” His eyes locked onto the painted pictures on the walls. “I was burried here.”

He almost chuckled out loud as he heard the sputtering of the cowboy who almost lost his balance on the even floor.

“What? I thought you left Florence a long time ago and never got burried? I mean obviously your body did not get laid to rest, but why did they arrange you funeral in general? Aren’t you an atheist?”

Machiavelli nodded, lifting his hand to slick back a lone hair tickling his cheek. “I am, yes. But at the time, when I needed to make my disappearance, it was a common practice to bury all members of the church into the holy grounds near the chapel. Such thing as ‘atheist’ did not exist by then. And since my remainings were never found, they simply blessed me into the rest and build a cenotaph for my honour.” He looked around, eyebrow raised. “I think it might still be in here.”

As the younger man listened his partner's story, his own gaze wiped over the glorious indoors of the church, and the thought of people gathering here to pay their respects for his lover’s passing filled him with strange, yet tender atmosphere. To have your countrymen mourn your death even if you are not a believer of the afterlife yourself must feel comforting. A small sting of envy stabbed him in the stomach. He was fairly certain that apart from couple of fellow outlaws, not many people had showed up in his funeral. Not that he believed in that sentimental crap anyway, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter about the fact that had he truly died all those years ago, no one would have cared.

But as the firm hold of his hand tightened, he lifted his gaze and came to look into Machiavelli’s soft, grey eyes. A slight grin emerged itself, reminding him to appreciate the present rather than to grieve the past. He was not alone anymore. And never would be.

Suddenly, the hold from his hand disappeared, leaving his numb fingers dangling in the air, missing the warmth of the other's grip.

“Henry, there was a reason for me to bring you here.” 

Hearing his given name spoken with such a heavy fondness, Billy jerked his head up and stared as his lover bent down, only one knee touching the ground, the elegant, skillful hands holding up a small, dark-blue box. He had only ever seen handful of these velvet cases, and even if he wasn’t sure to allow himself to believe it just yet, he was not a fool by any means. 

Kneeling on the floor, Machiavelli lowered his eyes, extending his arms while speaking in a low voice.

“I don’t believe in God, Henry. You know that by now. But I do believe in a power far more greater than anything humankind will ever archive.” Slowly, he lifted his head, aiming his blazing gaze directly to the eyes of the younger man. “I must, because I can’t seem to find any other explanation to the story we two have taken apart of. There is no way for me to justify the fact that even though we were born into two different countries, in two different eras of time, our paths came to cross, and I fell harder for you than I ever thought would be possible.” The tears were allowed to flow, gray eyes blinking as the silent sob rose from his throat. “I didn’t deserve this. I never deserved you, and I certainly never will, but I promise to do my best in trying. You said I had you from the day I carried you off from Alcatraz.” His voice cracked, and the box shook as he took a deep breath. “You had me since the moment you looked into my eyes and saw more than a monster everyone else had seen thus far.”

With his gaze locked to Billy’s wide, blue eyes, he opened the box. Inside, a golden ring shone when the light from the windows of the church hit it, and the diamond planted in the jewel was glistening right next to the gilded metal. The stone was not big at size, but then again, Machiavelli had never truly been a bombastic man.

“Niccolò.” Billy’s own voice shook as well when he kneeled down to be at eye-level with his partner and the love of his life. “Are you asking me something important here without actually asking the question?” He smirked, brushing his fingertips against the older man’s cheek. “Is this a proposal, Mac?”

Machiavelli’s face grew warmer, but he did not shy away from Billy’s questioning gaze. He cleared his throat, and nodded. The finality of the decision sank in faster than he had initially thought. He was about to link his life to another human being, to  _ trust  _ in another human being, after what felt like an eternaty. He would risk everything, but yet gain so much.

It was not even a question, and even if it were, he’d had his answer years ago at that stormy coast of the prison island. 

“Yes, it is. Henry, would you make me the happiest man in Italy, and marry me?”

The church’s bells rang as the young cowboy leaped forward and threw his arms around the older man, who eventually lost his balance and collapsed into the stony floors of the cathedral. The sound echoed inside of the empty building, enfolding the two men in to their own world, a world so sincere and full of peace that even the rumbling of the bronze bells couldn’t tear them out from it.

The blue eyes twinkled mischievously as the forehead of Billy’s was pressed firmly against Machivelli’s.

“So, do I wear the dress or are you already ordered one in your size?” His grin caused the man underneath him to chuckle, a bright note in the tone of his laughter mixing with the song of the bells.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that neither of us gets to cover themselves in a wedding dress as of yet. Given our reputation and a rather significant lack of guest candidates, I was thinking we could just sign the papers at the  registry office, jump into the airplane and fly to wherever you’d like to go.” The grey eyes softened as he nudged his head closer to Billy’s. “I think my trip already served its purpose.”

The cowboy leaned in, closing his lips around Machiavelli’s as he took a hold of the hand resting flat on the floor tiles.

“Sounds wonderful to me, Niccolò. Although I must disagree, this trip still has a lot to offer for both of us.” He grinned, patting the tanned cheek under his hand. “Firstly, I wanna see that grave of yours! It’s not every day you get to see your current spouse's final resting place while he's standing right beside you.”

At that Machiavelli laughed full-heartelly, pulling the young man near to gently kiss his temple.

“Anything you want, amore. Such a romantic mind you possess.”

Henry McCarty let out a rowdy snort while pushing himself upwards, taking Machiavelli's free hand and helping him stand up as well. “We have plenty of time to ‘educate’ me in that field of art once we get back to the hotel.” The wink that followed made Machivelli swallow hard, the look in those stunningly blue eyes full of promise.

“That I do not doubt for a moment.” Whispering, he pressed one last kiss on top of their linked hands. “My dear husband.”


End file.
